


Where the Shadows Lie

by alanna_the_lionheart



Series: Where the Shadows Lie [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst Dean Winchester, Angst Sam Winchester, Caring, Coda, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e23 Survival of the Fittest, Gen, Hell, Hurt, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Muteness, PTSD, Paranoia, Purgatory, Samulet, Shaving, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanna_the_lionheart/pseuds/alanna_the_lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to the season 7 finale (written before season 8 premiered). In his quest to rescue Dean from Purgatory, Sam gets help from an unexpected source, and something that’s been missing for a long time comes back. Originally posted on LJ and ff.net under my other name JALover7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Leave Me Here Alone

* * *

After Sam blows up the lab, he climbs into the Impala and drives, watching Leviathan Headquarters burn to the ground behind him.

Crowley, that two-faced bastard, was right about one thing: Sam’s alone now. Truly alone. Mom, Dad, Jessica. Jo, Ellen. Rufus. Castiel. Bobby.

Dean.

All gone.

The only thing Sam has left in this world is the car. It’s the one connection he has to his brother.

So he drives.

Dean’s in Purgatory. Sam knows it in his gut, in his heart. It’s the only logical explanation. Of course, the idea of Purgatory’s existence should be preposterous. But in Sam’s world, it’s just par for the course.

Heaven. Hell. Purgatory. Dean’s been to all of them now.

But he’s never been to the Grand Canyon.

The idea’s so ludicrous it makes Sam laugh.

But his laugh quickly turns into a sob, and Sam fights to keep from crying, because he knows that if he starts he will not be able to stop.

He doesn’t realize where he’s going until he’s outside her door. And then it makes perfect sense. He’s not going to Rufus’ cabin. He knows he’d never be able to stand being there without his brother. He just can’t be alone right now.

His hands shake as he knocks on her door.

“Sam?” She answers the door in a bathrobe. It’s three in the morning. Sam has no idea where the time went.

He opens his mouth to speak, but all he can get out is “he’s gone” before the tears start to fall and he breaks.

She steps outside and pulls him into a tight hug. She doesn’t have to ask who “he” is; there’s never any doubt. She doesn’t say a word, just holds him as he cries on her porch, tears soaking her shoulder.

When the tears finally stop, she leads him inside, guides him to the couch. She makes him a sandwich and heads back into the kitchen. He eats it mechanically, because she was nice enough to make it and because he knows he needs it. But it doesn’t taste like anything.

She comes back with a cup of hot chocolate. There's a splash of something in it that Sam can’t place. It’s strong, whatever it is, and Sam feels the warmth of it spread through his body, and he’s grateful.

And just like that he’s telling her everything. About Dick, about the Leviathans, about Cas and Crowley and Kevin the prophet…and Dean. The story flows out of him in a rush, and when he’s done he feels better for having shared it, as if a small part of his pain has been eased.

Though it doesn’t change the facts: Dean’s gone, and Sam has no idea how he’s going to get him back. If it’s even _possible_ to get him back.

Wordlessly, she offers him a hand and helps him up from the couch. Sam’s surprised to find the room spinning slightly around him as he stands, and if it weren’t for her hands on his arms he’d probably be on the floor.

She leads him to what must be the guest bedroom. She pulls back the covers on the bed, and Sam sits down heavily. He blinks a few times, can’t keep his eyes open. It hits him that she must have put something in his cocoa to help him fall asleep. His shoes come off, and she helps him out of his jacket. Sam lies down wordlessly and she pulls the covers over him.

Through the fog in his head, he thinks he hears Jody Mills say, “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Then he falls into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

The next day, Sam goes back to Rufus’ cabin and collects all of Bobby’s books, all of Rufus’ books, and brings them back to Sheriff Mills’ house.

He tells Jody he doesn’t mind staying at Rufus’ place. It’s almost like a home to him now anyway. But Jodi tells him she doesn’t mind in the slightest. That she knows he doesn’t want to be alone and that he’s “just too damn polite to ask for help.”

Sam smiles, and though he won’t admit it to her, he’s grateful.

He spends the next two weeks looking for a way to get Dean back.

He doesn’t find anything. Not even a hint of anything.

It doesn’t surprise him, really. This is _Purgatory_. God created the place as a giant prison, designed to keep all manner of nasty creatures locked away from the world. With Cas gone, with the angels scattered, Sam has no hope of finding his way into Purgatory.

Sam doesn't expect to find anything.

So he’s more than a little surprised when the answer comes to him in a dream.  
  
  
 _tbc..._

 


	2. Where I Can't Follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a warning for gore/violence. I don’t think it’s anything too drastic, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Sam wakes in the middle of the night, jerking up in bed, panting heavily, tears drying on his face. He can still hear it. The screams. The roars.

Dean calling his name in fear.

_Sam? Sammy? SAM!_

Sam closes his eyes and it’s all he can hear. His brother calling out for him, like a plea, a cry for help, and Sam feels utterly powerless.

He climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom. Splashes cold water on his face. He glances in the mirror, noting that he looks like crap. He’s pale, hasn’t shaved in two weeks, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

He hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Every time he falls asleep, his mind plagues him with images of Dean in Purgatory. Dean fleeing in terror. Dean fighting off all kinds of creatures. Some of them are new. Huge, scaly, horrible monsters that Sam can’t name and never wants to.

Most of them are familiar. A wendigo. A rakshasa. The shtriga that tried to kill him. The vampire that turned Dean while Sam stood by and watched. A nasty werewolf that tried to kill Dean on his sixteenth birthday. A shapeshifter wearing Sam’s face.

Ruby.

Lilith.

Old Yellow Eyes himself.

Tonight, it had been Alastair. Tonight, he had watched as Alastair tortured Dean in Purgatory, just like he must have tortured him in Hell. Watched as Alastair reminded Dean of all the things he did to those souls in Hell. Sam watched Dean break, watched him call out to his brother, begging for help.

Sam shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of the images from the dream. He’s not sure if these are visions, or simply nightmares his sick, anxious, guilt-ridden mind is torturing him with. Either way, he just wants them to stop.

He sighs and heads back to his room. He’s been hitting the books for two weeks, and he hasn’t found anything. He’s been to countless libraries, surfed the Internet, called John’s old contacts and even tried some of Bobby’s. Nothing.

The sleeping pills Jody gave him haven’t really helped. Sam’s beginning to think they’re only making the nightmares worse.

He climbs back into bed and closes his eyes. As he starts to drift back to sleep, he thinks of something.

He pulls on his shoes and heads out to the car. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to remember it.

Sam digs around in the glove box and pulls out a battered copy of “The Hobbit,” something Dean would never be caught dead reading. Shoved between the pages is an old leather pouch. He opens it and dumps the contents out into his palm.

Dean’s amulet.

Sam feels himself smile, the first smile he’s worn since his brother was sucked into Purgatory.

When Dean dropped it in the trashcan of that motel room, Sam couldn’t bear to leave it behind. He still isn’t sure why he took it. Maybe because he thought Dean might want it again someday, or that for whatever reason he might need it. Maybe because Sam had grown more attached to it than he’d realized. Regardless, Sam had held onto it all these years.

He’d hid it in the Impala’s glove box before he’d let Lucifer possess him, not knowing if he would ever get it back, but feeling hopeful at the idea that Dean might find it someday.

When Sam had finally gotten his soul back, he’d checked to make sure it was still there. He’d thought about taking it out, but he knew it’d be safer with the car. Dean would never let anything happen to his baby.

Back in his room, Sam sits down on the edge of the bed and gently slides the necklace on. The last time he wore this, Dean was in Hell. It feels…right, somehow.

Sam lies down and closes his eyes.

He’s asleep within minutes.

* * *

_“Samuel? Sam?”_

_He’s dreaming, he knows he’s dreaming. He’s lost in a dark fog, can’t see anything around him, but he knows that there’s nothing to see anyway. He can feel, though. There’s an energy in the room with him. Strong. Powerful. And kind. It wants to help him._

_“Sam.”_

_“Dad? Dad, is that you?”_

_He knows it’s not his father, but it sounds like him. Or at least…it_ feels _like him. It’s hard to describe. Sam’s never had a dream like this before. Or a vision. Or whatever the hell this is. It feels different._

_“No, my son,” the voice answers. “I do not have much time, so you must listen to me carefully. Purgatory was created to hold monsters, to keep them from Earth, that is true. But there is a way in. A loophole, created to retrieve soldiers lost in battle, to rescue those who do not belong.”_

_“Dean. You…you can help me save Dean?”_

_“I will tell you how to get in, Sam. I will help you save your brother.”_

_Sam feels tears spring to his eyes. The tiniest part of him, the logical part of his brain, thinks he shouldn’t trust this. It’s just a dream, after all. His dreams have never helped him. But Sam_ knows _he can trust this…whoever this is. In his heart he knows that this being will help him find Dean._

_“Who are you?” Sam asks, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he will not get an answer._

_“I am sorry, Samuel, for what you and your brother have been through. I truly am.”_

_“I don’t-”_

_Suddenly, the air around him is on fire. Light flares up out of nothing, and everything is so bright Sam knows his eyes should be burning out of his head._

_“Soon you will understand….”_

_And just like that-_

Sam sits bolt upright in bed, gasping, body and sheets soaked with sweat.

“Sam? Sam, are you all right?”

Jody’s sitting next to him, hands on his shoulders, concern evident on her face.

Sam pants, forces his breathing to slow down.

“I heard you screaming. It’s okay now, Sam. You’re-”

“I know how to save Dean.”

* * *

He can’t write it down.

Every time he tries to write it down – the ingredients, the symbol, the incantations – he ends up writing down something else. A grocery list. The Pledge of Allegiance. The lyrics to “Stairway to Heaven.”

He can’t talk about it, either. Every time he tries to say the steps out loud, he finds himself inexplicably mute.

But it’s okay, because it’s all branded into his brain. Every step of the ritual to rescue Dean from Purgatory. It’s all right there in his head, and somehow he knows that he will never forget it.

The difficult part is explaining to Jody how a ritual that he can neither write down nor tell her about is going to save Dean.

“Sam…I don’t understand. You can’t write it down, and you can’t tell me about it. How do you know it’s going to work?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam apologizes. “I know it sounds crazy, but…when you’ve been doing this kind of thing for as long as I have, you know when to trust a feeling. This is going to work. I know it.”

She smiles at him, tells him that if he’s so sure, she’s not going to try and stop him. But the smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and Sam knows she’s lying. She’s humoring him, maybe pities him, but Sam doesn’t care.

He takes the next day to gather all the ingredients he needs. It’s a fairly simple ritual. Everything he needs he can find in his supplies.

Once he’s gathered the ingredients, he’s ready to leave. Jody’s worried about him going to the middle of nowhere to do this, but Sam isn’t sure what the ritual will do, and he doesn’t really want to open a door to Purgatory in the middle of her living room. So she lets him go, but not before giving him a hug, telling him to be safe, and reminding him to call her as soon as he gets back.

She’s still worried about him. She hugs him like she’s afraid she’ll never see him again. Sam wishes he could reassure her; that she could understand just how _sure_ he is that this is going to work. But he can’t.

So he drives a few miles down the road to an old abandoned farmhouse.

The ritual requires a symbol: small and simple, drawn with the blood of the rescuer who intends to enter Purgatory. Sam doesn’t even flinch as his blood drips into a wooden bowl, as he carefully paints the symbol on the farmhouse floor.

The ritual requires an object that belongs to the person you’re searching for. The object will be used to help find the lost person: the more powerful the connection between object and person, the easier it will be to find them. Sam places Dean’s amulet in the center of the symbol. It’s been a long time since his brother has seen it, but Sam knows he’s making the right choice. It used to mean a great deal to Dean. And after everything that has happened…Sam trusts that the amulet will help him find his brother.

Finally, the ritual requires a sacrifice. A small bowl of herbs, sprinkled with the rescuer’s blood…and a piece of the rescuer himself. Sam trusts that this will work, more than he’s trusted anything before, but he’s human, and he can’t help but flinch as he brings a knife up to his left arm, whispers a few words in Latin, and cuts his hand off at the wrist.

Sam closes his eyes as he screams. But it’s just a reflex, because there is no pain.

Sam opens his eyes.  His stomach does somersaults at the sight of his left hand sitting on top of the bowl of herbs. But when he looks down at his arm, the wound is sealed tight in fresh new skin. It’s like his hand was never there.

No blood, no pain. Nothing.

Sam allows himself a moment to wonder before he continues the ritual.

He whispers the next few words of the incantation as he sets the bowl on fire. The blood and bone are a link, binding him to Earth. The sacrifice proves the intent of the rescuer. True, noble, willing to sacrifice anything to save the person who has been lost.

Sam is more than willing.

As he continues to chant, the ground quakes beneath him. Sam gets to his feet and steps back as the symbol begins to glow white. Soon the amulet and the bowl are glowing as well. The glow begins to spread, rising up from the floor to the ceiling, forming a perfectly circular door. As he utters the last words, the portal begins to pulsate. Sam takes a step closer, and he can just make out dark woods within. He can feel the energy of the place from where he stands. It’s sickly, dark…evil.

He steps into the void without a second thought.

_tbc..._


	3. There and Back Again

It’s like walking through a doorway. One minute he’s in the farmhouse. The next he’s finally there.

Purgatory.

Sam takes in his surroundings. He’s in the middle of dark woods. Trees rise high above him, their tops lost in impenetrable darkness. The air feels close around him, like it’s trying to choke him. There are no roads, nothing that distinguishes one spot of ground from another.

It would be so easy to get lost here.

And to lose hope.

Sam feels the very atmosphere of the place trying to suck the hope out of his body, and he feels his heart begin to race.

No. He’s here on a mission. He has to find Dean. He _can_ find Dean.

He has the amulet.

He can feel it against his chest. He looks down, and it’s there: warm, glowing ever so slightly.

He’s not entirely sure how it will work, but he knows that this is how he will find Dean.

He takes a deep breath, forces the darkness of Purgatory away from him, and starts walking.

As he walks, he feels a slight pull in the amulet, as though it is gently leading him in the right direction. His feet follow inaudible orders.

As he walks, he can feel eyes on him. Cold, soulless eyes that watch him from a distance. None of them approach him, for which Sam is grateful. But as they watch him, Sam can feel their gaze piercing his soul. They try to convince him it’s hopeless. Try and convince him to lie down and give up.

But the amulet is still warm against his chest, and Sam smiles as he moves on.

Time passes strangely in Purgatory. He’s not entirely sure how long he walks for. It could be minutes, or maybe hours. Days. Years. It’s taken Sam two Earth weeks to get here, but how long does he wander, searching for his brother?

How long has Dean really been here?

Eventually, the amulet begins to glow brighter, and the dark shadows and red eyes that watch him recede into the trees. It tugs him forward, faster now, and soon Sam’s running.

Suddenly, the amulet’s glow disappears. It hangs motionless and cold against his chest.

Sam stops.

And there, huddled against the roots of a tree…

_Dean_.

If he didn’t know his brother so well, Sam’s not sure he would recognize him. His hair is long, dirty, and tangled, covered in twigs and dirt and shiny from some ooze Sam doesn’t want to identify. He’s grown a beard that’s just as disheveled. What’s left of his clothes hang on him in tatters. His body is covered in dark bruises and painful, bleeding gashes, and he’s coated in a mixed layer of dirt and blood. And he’s thin, too thin; Sam can almost count his ribs.

But under all of that, Sam meets a pair of bright green eyes, and while they look more scared and lost than Sam’s ever seen them, he knows they’re his brother’s eyes.

This is Dean. He looks filthy, and terrified, and hungry, but beneath all of that is _Dean_ , and he’s whole, and alive, and Sam’s never been happier to see his brother.

“Dean.” Sam exhales as he says his name, relief and gratitude clear in his voice as tears spring to his eyes.

He takes a step toward him.

Dean gets to his feet and leaps away from him faster than Sam would have thought possible. He crouches down slightly as he lets out a low growl. It’s a warning. Dean’s preparing himself to fight. Sam’s never seen his brother like this before. He’s tensed, ready to strike, nothing but instinct, primal fear, and rage. Sam feels his heart sink in his chest. He expected this, he did, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of it.

Sam puts his arms up by his head and shows Dean his empty palm. He shows Dean that he’s unarmed, that he’s not a threat.

“It’s okay,” Sam says quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Dean doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t move from his defensive stance. His teeth are bared, and he looks like he could either tackle Sam or flee in terror at any moment.

Sam stays still, his stance loose and nonthreatening.

“It’s me. It’s Sam.”

Sam watches a brief flicker of recognition flash through his brother’s eyes at the name. But then Dean growls at him again, harsh and low, and he starts to back away slowly.

Sam feels his heart sink. He knows that he has to get Dean to come with him willingly; otherwise, the ritual won’t work.  He’s pretty sure he can take Dean down if he runs – he looks so _weak_ – but he doesn’t want to do that. Sam’s afraid that if he has to chase him, he will lose his trust. So he stays where he is, stands as still as possible.

“Dean, it’s me. Sam. Your brother. Dean, it’s going to be all right. I’m here to save you.”

Dean stops moving, but he remains crouched down, his body taut. Sam takes this as a sign that he's listening.

“I brought you something.”

Slowly, Sam reaches down to grab the amulet. He gets it in his hand in the same time it takes Dean to pick up a rock from the ground and hurl it at him. The rock hits him hard in the side of his head, and Sam feels the ground tilt under him as his vision blurs. He feels blood pouring down his face from the gash the rock opened on his forehead.

Sam blinks a few times and his vision comes back. Dean’s still standing there, but he has another rock in his hand, and he’s poised to throw it.

Sam holds the amulet tightly in his palm as he thinks. Judging by the length of the beard Dean has grown, he’s been here longer than two weeks. A month at least, maybe two. He’s run into all kinds of monsters. Probably a few shifters. One or more of them have probably turned into Sam, maybe even convinced him that they were there to save him. Who knows how many times Dean has been faced by his brother, only to find that it’s a shapeshifter that wants nothing more than to hurt him?

Sam begins to feel a sense of hopelessness. How can he convince Dean that he doesn’t want to hurt him?

Then an idea strikes him.

Slowly, Sam gets down on his knees. Dean takes a step toward him this time, raising the rock up over his head. Sam sits back on his legs and looks down at Dean’s feet, baring the top of his head. Submissive. Completely vulnerable.

Sam holds his breath, and he prays that Dean is still his brother. Prays that Purgatory has not destroyed Dean completely. Prays that it’s not too late to save him.

He waits. And waits. Dean stands above him, and Sam hears his breathing slow down.

The rock falls. With a soft plop it hits the ground next to Sam.

He chances a glance up at his brother. Dean’s standing over him, arms at his sides. The fear is gone from his eyes, and in them Sam finds confusion, and what might be a frail spark of hope.

Sam unwraps his hand from the amulet and holds it up so Dean can see it. Sam watches recognition flash across his brother’s face. Tentatively, Dean reaches a hand out for it.

Slowly, Sam grabs the cord to take it off his neck. Dean flinches at the movement, and Sam stops.

“It’s okay,” Sam says quietly.

When Dean doesn’t move again, Sam takes the cord off his neck, places the amulet in his palm, and holds it out to his brother.

Dean reaches out and takes it slowly, his hand brushing lightly over Sam’s. He holds it out in front of him, staring at it for what seems like ages.

Finally, Dean looks back down at Sam. Dean still looks confused, but there’s no mistaking the hope in his eyes this time.

“It’s me, Dean. It’s Sam. I’m going to take you home.”

Dean opens his mouth like he wants to say something.

Suddenly, a loud roar echoes in the woods behind Dean.

Sam’s on his feet in an instant. Dean’s still in front of him, body tense, but he’s not facing this threat, or growling in warning at it. He’s cowering in front of Sam, whimpering quietly. Sam reaches out and grabs Dean’s shoulder gently. Dean flinches but doesn’t run. He’s trembling in Sam’s arms, and Sam’s heart clenches at the sheer terror quaking in his brother’s body. He’s never seen Dean this scared before, this vulnerable, and it scares him to death.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you.”

He holds Dean tightly as he chants the words that will take them home.

The dark woods are illuminated briefly, and Sam can just make out the shape and size of a monster stolen straight from a child’s worst nightmare. Then the woods disappear around him in a flash of bright white light.

_tbc..._


	4. A Little Fellow in a Wide World

The first thing Sam notices when the white light fades, when the farmhouse finally comes into focus, is that his hand has been reattached to his arm. He never really noticed its absence when it was gone, but now that it’s back he can feel it: strongly and firmly attached to his body. He smiles in wonder, flexing it, making sure it still works like it used to.

Then Sam hears a long wail, and it takes him a second to realize that the sound is coming from his brother. He looks up to find Dean pacing the room. He’s hyperventilating, eyes wide open, looking around him in fear. He doesn’t recognize the farmhouse, he has no idea where he is, and Sam curses himself for not thinking about this. For all Dean knows, he’s still in Purgatory, and this isn’t real.

“Dean, it’s all right. You’re back now.” He reaches out and grabs Dean’s shoulder, which turns out to be a mistake. Dean shakes him off with a cry of fear and steps away. He begins to pace the outside of the room, touching the walls, the windows, looking for a way out. The only door is behind Sam, and when Dean finally sees it, he freezes. He’s stopped pacing, but he’s still breathing heavily.

In the light of the room, Sam takes a closer look at his brother.

Dean looks worse than he thought. Sam can see his ribs under his tattered clothes, most of which, upon closer inspection, seem to be made out of deerskin. His breathing is harsh, and it sounds like he might have a cold or an infection. He’s filthy, covered in bruises and deep, painful cuts. None of them look deadly, and as far as Sam can see he doesn’t have any broken bones. But a nasty gash on his upper arm is discolored, and it’s most definitely infected.

He has to get Dean back to Jody's. He needs a bath, and food, and medicine. He needs a warm bed. He needs-

“Open your hand.”

Dean looks at his closed fist, then looks back at Sam, confused.

“Open it,” Sam says encouragingly.

Slowly, Dean opens his hand. Clasped tightly in his palm, so tightly it’s left small indentations behind, is the amulet.

As Dean looks at it, his breathing begins to slow down, and his eyes look less wild and scared.

“That’s right, Dean. You’re home now. This is real. _I’m_ real.”

Dean continues to stare. Sam takes a tentative step toward his brother, and Dean takes a step back. But then he stops and looks up at Sam. He has an unreadable expression on his face.

“Dean, it’s Sam. Your brother. Do you…do you remember me?” His voice chokes up as he says it, and he’s terrified of the answer.

But Dean doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say a word, or nod yes, or shake his head no; he just looks down at the ground sadly.

“It’s okay,” Sam says placatingly, though it’s anything but. He doesn’t need to get Dean to remember him right away. He just needs to get his brother to trust him. “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m going to take you to a friend’s house. Her name is Jody Mills. She’s helped us before.”

He reaches out a hand. Dean doesn’t take it. Instead he stares at it like it’s going to attack him.

“Dean, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Dean puts on his necklace. He holds the amulet in his palm as he takes a step toward Sam. Sam doesn’t touch him again. He turns to go.

Thankfully, Dean follows.

* * *

Getting Dean into the car proves worlds easier than getting him out of the farmhouse. At the sight of the Impala, Dean’s jaw drops, and if the whole situation weren’t so serious, Sam would be laughing out loud at the look of awe on his brother's face.

Still, Sam can’t help but smile as he opens the passenger door and Dean limps inside, caressing the seat, the dashboard, the steering wheel. It’s like watching him be reunited with a long lost love, and really, it’s not that different. Dean knows his baby better then he knows any living person, expect maybe Sam. It makes sense that the Impala would be the one thing Purgatory could never taint; the one thing Purgatory can’t twist and use to torture Dean.

Sam just wishes he could say the same thing about himself.

He’s not sure what happened in Purgatory that’s making it so hard for Dean to recognize or trust him. But it’s not important. Right now, he needs to fix his brother physically. Get him a shower, and some food. And hopefully, with a little time and a lot of care, Dean will be able to trust him again.

* * *

Sam arrives back at Jody’s to find that he’s only been gone for an hour. The trip must have been instantaneous. Sam leaves Dean on the porch when Jody pulls him inside and hugs him long and hard, and now Sam _knows_ that she never expected to see him again.

Dean’s hesitant to enter the house at first, and Sam can’t really blame him. He doesn’t know this place, either.

  
Jody reaches out a hand to him from inside, quietly telling him who she is, that he’s going to be okay, that she wants to help him. Dean doesn’t take her hand, but eventually he nods and walks inside.

Sam wants to deal with Dean’s wounds first. They look deep and unclean, and Sam’s almost positive that infection is the cause of Dean’s harsh, unsteady breathing. First though, Dean needs to get clean.

“Come on,” Sam says quietly, and Dean follows like a silent shadow. Once in the bathroom, Sam turns on the shower.

Dean loses it.

As water starts to pour from the showerhead, Dean lets out a high pitched whine. Sam’s never heard his brother make a noise quite like it, and he never wants to hear it again. Dean scrambles into the corner, back hitting the wall, and he crouches down and puts his hands over his head, as though they will protect him from the imagined danger of the falling water.

Sam shuts the shower off quickly and turns toward Dean.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t…the shower bothers you?”

Dean doesn’t answer him, just starts to moan as he rocks back and forth.

Sam’s not sure what it is about the shower that’s setting Dean off, but he needs to get Dean clean.

“Okay, no shower. Got it.”

Sam plugs the bottom of the tub and turns on the faucet. As the tub begins to fill, Dean stops moaning. Eventually he stops rocking back and forth. He remains hunched on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs.

Sam inspects the bottles lined up on the bathtub rim. He picks up a colorful bottle and sniffs it before dumping a little bit into the tub. Bubbles start to form as the tub fills, and when he turns around Dean is finally on his feet again, looking at the bathtub quietly. He’s not sure if Dean has ever had a bubble bath (he’s not sure he _wants_ to know that, actually) but he’s not cowering in fear anymore, and the bubbles seem to have calmed him a bit.

“Okay…if I leave, will you…can you take care of this yourself?”

He feels awkward bringing it up, but honestly, he’s not sure that Dean’s in the state of mind to take care of himself. Dean doesn’t say yes or no. He steps around him and approaches the tub, looking into it apprehensively. Finally, he turns back to Sam, staring at him for a long time before turning his gaze to the floor.

“Okay…so I’m going to leave. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”

Sam walks out, leaving the door open slightly. He leans against the wall outside and slides slowly down to the floor.

Seeing Dean like this...so quiet, so vulnerable...it's killing him. Sam doesn’t mind taking care of his brother, but the fact that Dean is _letting him_ , without complaining, is a testament to just how lost Dean really is.

After a few minutes of silence from the bathroom, Sam tentatively peers around the door. Dean’s touching the bottles aimlessly, staring at them. Sam walks back in and, without a word, he picks up his shampoo bottle, squirts some shampoo into his hand, and starts to wash his brother’s hair. Mercifully, Dean doesn't protest as Sam digs out the twigs, scrubs out the dirt and slime. Then he washes his beard, untangling knots with his fingers as best as he can. He rinses the shampoo out as gently as possible.

When he’s done, he grabs a washcloth, covers it in soap, and hands it to Dean. Dean stares at it before looking up at Sam. Sam nods, and finally, Dean begins to scrub. He washes his neck, arms, and chest, scrubbing hard at the layers of dirt and blood. He's thinner than Sam has ever seen him; all that muscle earned from hard work fighting evil is gone.

Eventually, Sam can see clean skin again. When Dean’s finished with his chest, Sam gently takes the cloth from him and scrubs down his back. Then he hands it back to Dean, and as Dean begins to scrub the rest of his body, Sam slips out quietly.

Any doubt Sam might have had before that Purgatory screwed up his brother is gone now. Dean would _never_ let Sam bathe him or wash his hair. If Dean somehow managed to lose both of his arms he would still find a way to wash himself.

When Dean comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel ten minutes later, Sam smiles and shows him to the guest bedroom, passing him his duffel full of clothes.

When he comes out ten minutes later, clothes hanging loosely on his too thin frame, Sam bites his lip and wills himself to be strong.

Over the next few hours, Sam cares for his brother. He offers Dean a bowl of soup that Jody makes for him, but Dean refuses to eat it, either by himself or with Sam’s help. Sam gives up on the soup and gives him a glass of water with antibiotics crushed into it. Dean drinks it cautiously at first, but eventually he drains it. Sam wonders if there was fresh water in Purgatory. Dean probably wouldn’t have lasted long without it…but then maybe you can’t really die in Purgatory.

When he’s done with the water, Sam tries food again. He offers Dean the soup, hoping that, since he drank the water, he’ll be willing to give the soup another shot. No luck. He tries to get Dean to eat a piece of bread, then a banana. But Dean doesn’t want to eat anything, and when Sam tries to force him, his brother turns his head to the side and groans. Sam gives up on the food, hoping that Dean will be more willing to eat when he’s gotten used to being back.

Next, Sam sits him down at the kitchen table and takes out a pair of scissors. Dean eyes them warily, and he flinches when Sam moves them to his head. But Sam murmurs quietly to Dean that he’s not going to hurt him, and when he starts to cut his brother’s hair, Dean doesn’t protest.

When he’s done with the hair, he turns his attention to the beard. He’s afraid that a razor will set Dean off, so he settles for using the scissors to trim it, ridding him of most of the tangled mess. Dean looks tense as Sam works, but he reaches down, grabs the amulet tightly in his hand, and sits quietly. When Sam’s done, piles of hair litter the floor, and Dean has a clean looking beard that he would loathe if he was sane enough to care.

By now, Dean is trembling slightly, and he looks tired. Between being brought back from Purgatory, the bath, and the shave, Dean’s been through a lot. But Sam needs to tend to his brother’s wounds.

So he leads Dean to the couch and spends another hour cleaning his wounds. Dean hates the antiseptic that Sam uses to clean his cuts. He hates the needle Sam uses to stitch the wounds. He flinches, whimpers in pain. As Sam stitches the nasty gash on Dean’s upper arm, his brother actually begins to cry. Silent tears fall down his cheeks, creating a stark contrast when they land in his new beard. And when he looks at Sam, Sam feels his heart break, because Dean looks like a five year old who’s asking his Daddy when it’s going to stop hurting.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam says, his voice breaking slightly. “For everything. I…I’m sorry.”

It seems like a useless gesture. What good is an apology going to do? How is saying “I’m sorry” going to help Dean deal with the physical and emotional scars that Purgatory has left him with? Sam’s not sure how to fix his brother, not sure how to bring him back. He figures the best he can do is fight one battle at a time.

He cleans, stitches, and bandages all his brother’s wounds, whispering soothingly while Dean cries and holds onto his amulet like it’s a lifeline.

When he’s finally done, Dean is a mess. He’s huddled on the couch, trembling and whimpering quietly to himself, and Sam knows he won’t get Dean to do anything else right now.

“Come on, Dean. Let’s get you to bed.”

It takes five minutes of gentle coaxing, but eventually he gets Dean to drink another glass of water, with sleeping pills ground into it this time. When he’s done, Dean follows him to the guest room. Sam pulls back the covers on the bed and motions for Dean to lie down. Dean stares at the bed, then gently shakes his head and curls up on the floor. Sam doesn’t try to fight him. He takes a pillow and sets it down next to him. Dean touches it tentatively, then takes it. He puts his head on the very corner of it and then curls his body around the rest. He lets Sam wrap a blanket around him gently.

Dean’s asleep within minutes.

Sam lies awake in the bed for hours and watches his brother sleep before he finally falls asleep himself.

_...tbc..._


	5. In the Darkness Bind Them

**Chapter Five: In the Darkness Bind Them**

_When Cas first leaves him, Dean is afraid he won't come back; that he will be stuck here for eternity. Alone._

_But then Cas returns with a few crudely constructed weapons. They're the best he can do with what Purgatory has to offer. Dean also finds a few items in his pockets that came with him from Earth: his lock pick kit (useless) his gun (the bullets are gone within two days), and a protein bar (gone within one). But he also has his silver knife, and Dean is grateful for the instinct that tells him to have one on him at all times._

_Cas' weapons work well against the simple monsters, those that can be easily killed by good old fashioned hacking and slashing. The more complex creatures present a challenge, and it falls to Cas to destroy them. But killing Purgatory monsters quickly takes a toll on him, draining him of his angel powers._

_Then one day, Dean wakes to a bright light that burns his eyes after so much darkness...and a terrifying scream that chills the blood in his veins. He opens his eyes just in time to see Cas disappear in a brilliant white light._

_And just like that, his worst nightmare is realized, and Dean finds himself alone. He doesn't see Cas again. He spends the next God-only-knows-how-many months, years, decades, wandering alone through Purgatory._

_Purgatory is a strange place. It offers just enough to keep him alive. He finds pools of fresh water that dry up within minutes, lasting just long enough for him to quench his thirst and keep him moving until he finds the next one. Purgatory also offers him squirrels and small rodents, a few berries and nuts here and there. One day Dean actually manages to find and kill a deer that sustains him for a few weeks and offers him a chance to replace his old clothes, which have long since worn thin._

_But food sources are few and far between, and Dean never lets himself forget Cas' warning: "eating monsters will eventually turn you into a monster yourself." Dean takes him at his word, and he refuses to eat anything that's not a rabbit or a squirrel. He would rather starve to death than become any of the things he sees around him._

_The weather in Purgatory offers its own set of horrors. The rain that falls from the sky is acid, and it burns his skin. The trees offer little protection, and he considers himself lucky when he can find a rock to crawl under. Storms are even worse. Lightning strikes the trees like they are made of copper, and all Dean can do is run and pray for shelter. Sometimes he's lucky enough to find a rock or cave, and he hides away as the wind howls and the acid burns the leaves off the trees and the lightning sets the sky on fire. But the storms offer a bit of a reprieve: fire seems to be the only thing the Purgatory monsters fear._

_Purgatory continues to offer him just enough to keep him alive. Just enough to keep his body going, but never enough to keep him strong and healthy; never enough to keep his spirits high. Purgatory is like a living, breathing monster Itself. It's always dark, an unending night full of shadows created by nothing, roads that lead nowhere. The very air that Dean breathes tries to poison him with hopelessness and despair. As Purgatory destroys his mind and his spirit, It offers him just enough to keep his body going, and Dean knows in his heart that this is just what Purgatory wants: to keep him alive so that It's denizens can torment him._

_And torment him they do. Werewolves, hellhounds, vampires. He fights them off as best as he can with the weapons Cas left him, with his silver knife. Dean keeps his body going, but his soul, his mind, his hope are all beaten and twisted until he slowly begins to forget. He begins to forget what the sun feels like on his skin, what laughter sounds like, what a woman's perfume smells like, what cherry pie tastes like. He begins to forget Earth, even begins to forget his own name._

_And then the shifters come for him, and they look just like Sam. They act just like Sam. They tell him they're there to save him, that they're there to take him home, and Dean falls for them at first. Every time Sam shows up Dean manages to forget where he is, and all he can grasp at is **home**. Sam's here, he's going to save him, he's going **home**._

_But it's a lie. Every. Single. Time. Instead they torture him, taunt him. Call him useless, pathetic, worthless. Tell him that Sam, the **real Sam** , will never show up. He doesn't care enough, Dean's not worth it._

_And when Dean starts to believe it, he forces himself to forget Sam, too. It's easier to forget Sam than to face the ache that begins anew every time he sees Sam's face and knows it's not his brother. Dean stops looking for Sam; whenever Sam shows up, Dean fights him off and runs. But then Sam always catches him. Everything in Purgatory is too fast for him._

_Then one day, in a scuffle with a particularly nasty version of Sam, Dean loses his silver knife._

_And then Alastair finds him, and there's nothing but **pain**._

* * *

Sam jerks awake suddenly, panting heavily and looking around in terror. It takes him a second to realize what woke him up.

Dean.

Sam hears his brother scream, and when he looks down at the floor he finds Dean tangled up in his blanket, tossing and turning, caught tight in the throes of a nightmare.

Sam's out of bed and on the floor in an instant.

"Dean? Wake up. Dean!"

He calls out to Dean first, and when Dean doesn't wake, when he only continues to thrash and moan, Sam grabs his shoulders and tries to shake him awake.

"Dean, wake up. It's just a dream. Wake up!"

Dean screams again, louder than before, and Sam's heart twists at the sound. He shakes him harder.

"DEAN!"

Dean gasps loudly as he wakes up. He tries to sit up, but the blanket is twisted around his body. He scoots clumsily away from Sam until his back hits the dresser. He cowers against it, eyes scanning the room wildly.

"It's okay, it's over now," Sam soothes.

Dean glances up at the sound of his voice, and finally his eyes settle on Sam. He continues to pant as he tries to focus on the room around him.

"You're safe now."

Sam scoots closer to Dean on his hands and knees, and Dean flinches.

Sam pauses, unsure of how to calm his brother down.

And then it hits him.

Ever so slowly, Sam reaches out to Dean. Dean turns his head away, but he doesn't move as Sam digs underneath the blanket and grabs the amulet. He lifts it up with one hand and touches Dean's wrist with the other. As gently as he can, Sam pries open Dean's fist, slips the amulet into Dean's palm, and wraps his brother's hand around it.

Dean keeps his head turned away from Sam, eyes shut tight, while Sam holds Dean's hand between his own and breathes in and out slowly and evenly, willing his brother's breathing to calm down with his own.

And it works. Slowly but surely, Dean's body stops trembling and his breathing evens out. Eventually, Dean opens his eyes and looks up at Sam.

"See? You're okay. It was a nightmare. You're home now. Safe and sound."

Sam lets go of Dean's hand and watches his brother open up his fist. He stares down at the amulet for a long time. But when he finally looks back up at Sam, he nods slowly, and Sam smiles at him.

Sam stands up and heads back to his bed, giving Dean time to adjust. Eventually, Dean untangles himself from the blankets and settles back down on the floor. When he falls asleep a few minutes later, he's still clutching the amulet tightly in his fist.

* * *

Sam doesn't go back to sleep. He sits awake in bed for a few minutes before he realizes he'll never be able to fall asleep again. He heads downstairs to the living room as quietly as possible so as not to wake Dean.

He finds Jody sitting up on the living room couch.

"How is he?" she asks without preamble.

"He's…." Sam pauses, not sure how honest he wants to be. But as he sits down next to her on the couch, he sighs heavily, and it all just comes flowing out.

"Not good," Sam admits. "He hasn't…he doesn't remember me. At least, I don't think he does. And he hasn't said a word. I don't know how I...I don't know how to help him," he finishes lamely. He stares down at his hands, deep in thought.

After a moment of silence, Jody reaches out and gently grasps his hands between her own. "I know this is hard for you, Sam. I can't even imagine what you're going through. But Dean's gonna need _time_. And he's gonna need _you_."

Sam looks up at Jody as his eyes begin to water against his will.

"It may not seem like it now, but your brother needs you, Sam. You two boys…you're each other's whole world. He'll come back to you; I know it. He just needs time, and patience. And besides, if there's anyone in this world that can get through to Dean…it's _you._ "

Sam pauses as tears spring to his eyes, and he brushes them away angrily. His brother _needs him._ Sam has to be strong. For Dean.

He opens his mouth to respond, but he can't get any words out, so he just nods. Jody smiles, then kisses him lightly on the forehead and stands up.

"You boys are going to be okay. You Winchesters are a lot like Bobby Singer, you know? Resilient, stubborn. Just know that I'll help you in any way that I can."

Sam nods again, and as Jody turns away, Sam lets out a quiet "thank you." She turns and smiles at him again before heading back to bed.

Once she's gone, Sam sits quietly on the couch, lost in his own thoughts. He will help his brother. He will bring Dean back to him. He has to.

Sam picks up his battered old copy of _The Hobbit_ and starts to read. Two hours later, he's fast asleep.

* * *

When Sam finally wakes up, light is streaming in through the curtains. The clock on the table says that it's a little after noon.

Then he hears a quiet shuffling noise, and he looks up to find Dean slowly making his way downstairs, wrapped up tightly in his blanket. Sam's so happy to see him walking around on his own that he can't help but grin as he teases his brother with a quiet, "Morning, sunshine."

The taunting goes right over Dean's head, but Sam doesn't care. Dean is alive and whole and apparently-

"You must be hungry," Sam says softly when Dean's stomach growls loud enough for Sam to hear it from across the room.

Sam walks into the kitchen and starts to make some soup. As he works, Dean sits down at the table and looks around, taking in his surroundings in a way that he didn't the day before. Sam takes this as a good sign. Dean appears to recognize the place from yesterday, and it almost seems like he's finally admitting to himself that he's here, for real, and he might as well familiarize himself with what's around him.

Sam sets a glass of water on the table, and Dean sips it slowly without being prompted. When Sam's done with the soup, he sets it in front of Dean and waits.

Dean eyes it warily at first, like it's going to come alive and eat him. Sam reaches out a hand to take the spoon, but before he can touch it Dean picks it up and starts to eat. He doesn't eat fast, and he doesn't eat much, and Sam doesn't really expect him to. When it looks like he's eaten as much as he's willing, Sam hands Dean another glass of water and gets him to take a few more sips before he pushes it away.

It's more than Sam had hoped for.

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes before Sam can't take it anymore.

"Want to watch some TV?"

He's not entirely sure what to do with Dean at this point, but he figures that watching crappy movies on TV isn't a bad place to start, considering how much Dean used to love doing that before.

He leads Dean into the living room and tunes the TV to a channel with some stoner comedy, possibly _Harold and Kumar_ or _Dude, Where's My Car?_ , he still gets them mixed up. Sam sits on the chair across the room and starts to read.

He gets lost in Middle Earth for maybe half an hour before he senses that something is wrong. He looks up just in time to watch Dean lean over the couch and throw up on the floor.

Sam's on his feet in a flash. He grabs a trashcan from next to the couch and gets it under Dean just in time to catch the next round of vomit, and Sam waits as Dean throws up all the soup and water he just drank.

When he's done, Dean sits up, pale and sweaty and shaking. He looks at Sam and actually blushes in shame, and it freaks Sam out more than he cares to acknowledge.

"It's okay," Sam says soothingly. He goes to the kitchen and gets a few wet paper towels and some cleaner. He hands a towel to Dean, and while Dean shakily wipes his face Sam cleans the mess on the floor. He dumps all the used paper towels into the mess of the garbage can and throws the entire contents into the kitchen trash.

When he comes back, Dean is sitting on the couch staring into space. Sam puts the now clean garbage can on the floor.

"Do you…want to try again?"

Sam's fairly certain what's going on here, but he doesn't want to admit it to himself. Not yet. After everything Dean has been through, he can't be sick on top of it. He just can't be. Sam just needs to get him to keep some food down and he'll get better.

At least that's what he tell himself as he offers Dean the rest of the reheated soup. Dean eats even less than he did before, and when Sam offers Dean a small piece of toast, hoping the change in food will get him try more, Dean shakes his head and moans.

Sam leads him back to the couch to watch the rest of the movie. Sam watches Dean for about fifteen minutes before Dean starts to shiver. He wraps himself up even tighter in the blanket, and Sam feels his heart start to race.

_Please, God. No._ Sam prays to himself.

Five minutes later, Dean bends over the couch and vomits into the garbage can.

Sam approaches him slowly and stoops down next to him. He places one hand on Dean's back and rubs gently, and Dean's too busy throwing up to protest at the touch.

Sam places his other hand on Dean's forehead.

His brother is burning up.

"Crap."

… _tbc…_


	6. Wanderer in the Shadowed Land

**Chapter Six: Wanderer in the Shadowed Land**

Sam cares for Dean as best as he can. He gets him into bed and tucks him in, watching helplessly as he shivers uncontrollably.

Sam tries once more to get water into his brother. He holds a straw up to Dean's lips to make it easier, and he takes a few small sips before he turns away, moaning.

The next few hours are torture for Sam.

He gives Dean more antibiotics, but they don't seem to help much. His temperature just continues to rise. The small amount of water Sam was able to get him to drink eventually comes back up.

Sam wipes the sweat off Dean's forehead and chest with a cold washcloth. Dean doesn't flinch away, but sighs at the soothing feeling, and Sam smiles hopefully.

* * *

But the fever only continues to get worse. Despite Sam's best efforts, Dean can't keep any water down. He's dehydrated, malnourished, and his temperature just keeps climbing.

When Jody comes home from work, she helps Sam change the sweat soaked sheets on the bed. Then she makes a bowl of her best chicken noodle soup from scratch.

Dean turns his head to the side and refuses to eat.

About twenty four hours in, Dean starts mumbling nonsense. Sam can pick out a few words – stop, no, please, help me – but mostly Dean just tosses and turns, groaning in pain and mumbling incoherently.

Eventually, Jody voices the thought that's been on his mind since Dean first threw up.

"Sam...maybe we should take him to the hospital."

Sam's been considering it for a long time now, but deep down he's always known what his answer was going to be.

"I can't."

Jody looks at him in confusion.

"Sam...they can help him. They can-"

"No," Sam replies, more vehemently this time.

"Sam, please-"

"I can't," Sam says quietly, voice almost a whisper. Before he knows it he's voicing all his deepest concerns: everything he's been thinking about for the past day, watching his brother get worse and worse and being powerless to help him.

"I...he isn't used to being back yet. He doesn't know this place. He barely knows _me_. What'll happen if I leave him with a bunch of strangers, in a place he's never been? I'm afraid he might..."

Lose it. Sam's afraid a hospital will undo everything he's been working so hard to build. He can't lose Dean's trust, even the small amount he's managed to earn back. Not now. He's too afraid of losing it...for good. And besides:

"I'm afraid they'll take him away from me. Lock him up in a psych ward where I'll never be able to help him. I can't lose him." Sam whispers the last part, voice breaking. "Not again."

Jody seems floored, and Sam's not sure what she'll do. After a long silence, she nods and turns to go.

Sam stops her.

"There is something I _can_ do. Can you...will you stay with him for a little while?"

Jody smiles.

"I've already taken a leave of absence from work. How can I help?"

* * *

Jody hates the plan, and Sam knows it, but he has no other choice. He tells her it's gonna be fine, he's done this before. Finally, Jody grits her teeth.

"Sam Winchester, if I have to bail you out of this-"

"You won't," Sam answers with a smirk. "Trust me."

In the end, she nods and promises to take care of Dean while he's gone.

So Sam puts on a suit, takes a fake ID and a fake story, and visits the nearest hospital.

The antibiotics Sam has been giving Dean since he rescued him just aren't enough. He needs real drugs – hospital strength drugs.

Sam's good at his job – _very_ good. Thirty minutes later he drives away from the hospital with a case of the best antibiotics a man could hope to steal.

Sam smiles to himself and actually laughs out loud as he thinks, _Dean would be so proud._

* * *

Sam gives Dean the medicine as soon as he gets back.

Then he can do nothing but sit in his chair next to the bed and wait.

As the medicine begins to take hold, Dean's fever rises, fast and hard.

Within hours, Dean is full-on hallucinating, and Sam can't do anything but watch as Dean's incoherent mumbling turns into cries of pain and fear.

"No...please stop...please."

It's the first time Sam has heard Dean talk since he brought him back from Purgatory.

Eventually, Dean's cries for mercy turn into cries for help.

"Somebody...help me. Please. Help me. No. Please. No!"

Then the screaming starts.

It's the worst sound Sam thinks he's ever heard. It's worse than the time Azazel tried to kill Dean from inside their father's body. Worse than the time Dean was torn apart by the hellhounds. It's worse than anything because Sam's never felt more _helpless._ He doesn't know what's going on in Dean's head, and he just can't help his brother fight something that he can't see.

When Sam can't stand it anymore, when he thinks he's going to burst from the sheer torture of hearing his brother scream and not being able to do anything to help him, Sam takes a wet cloth and applies it to Dean's forehead, rubbing gently back and forth.

Eventually, the screaming stops, and Dean starts to moan.

"Dean...can you hear me?"

Dean doesn't react to Sam's voice, but Sam didn't really expect him to.

Dean starts to thrash slowly, and a sob escapes his throat.

Sam feels tears rise in his eyes, and he finally has an idea what's going on in his brother's fevered brain. Where else would he go with a fever overheating his already raw and tortured mind? He puts down the cloth, reaches under the blanket, and grabs his brother's hand in both of his.

"Dean...you've gotta get better, man."

Dean moans, and a few tears escape his eyes.

Sam swallows heavily. Dean would hate him for this, but...he reaches up and brushes the tears off his brother's face. He picks up the cloth in one hand and applies it to Dean's chest. His hand brushes lightly over the amulet that Dean hasn't taken off since he got back. The one that, up until a few days ago, he had never wanted to see again.

"Dean...Dean, if you can hear me, you have to know that _I saved you_. You're not _there_ anymore. You're back _home_ , safe. With me."

He's gotten his brother through so much. He can get him through this, too.

"You're going to be okay, Dean. I didn't save you from that place just so I could watch you die. You _will_ get better. You have to."

Sam brushes the cloth across Dean's forehead again, soothing the lines of worry, fear, and tiredness off his brow.

Slowly, very slowly, Dean's face relaxes. He stops thrashing, stops moaning.

And then finally, thankfully, he falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

_It's not quite like it usually is. Oh, its Purgatory, make no mistake. But it's different. Red. Hot. Blisteringly, painfully red hot. But everything else is the same. The monsters. The suffocating, crippling hopelessness in the air._

_All those creatures who look like Someone Familiar._

_And then there's Alastair._

_The pain, oh god, the **pain**._

_White hot. His body's on fire._

" _Help me. Somebody. Please."_

_He's vaguely aware of screaming the words out loud and he can't remember the last time he did that, the last time he spoke. He gave up ages ago when he realized there was no one to answer._

_But he screams this time. Begs, pleads, cries, anything to stop the pain._

" _Help! Please. Oh, god. No more. It hurts. HELP!"_

_And then he hears it. It's faint, but it's like someone's calling to him from far away. Outside of where he is. He recognizes it, vaguely. It sounds like..._

" _Dean...you've gotta get better, man."_

_It's him. The one who rescued him from The Evil Place. But then how-_

" _Dean, if you can hear me, you have to know that **I saved you**. You're not **there** anymore. You're back **home** , safe. With me."_

_That's right. He **did** save him. He took him out of this Evil Place and brought him somewhere he doesn't know: somewhere brighter, and warmer...gentler...safer. So then why is he back here again?_

" _Dean, open your eyes."_

_He has no idea where the voice is coming from. It sounds so familiar to him that he yearns for something lost, something he knows he should recognize but can't. It's like a missing piece he never realized he lost, and now that he knows it's gone he can feel the ache of its absence, sharp and painful._

" _Open your eyes."_

_Dean takes a deep breath and opens his eyes._

_He recognizes the room, knows where he is. It's The New Place. The room is dark, but for the bright light looming over him. It's like nothing he ever saw in that Evil Place. It's bright, **too** bright somehow, but it doesn't hurt. Dean feels his pain lessen. The light is comforting, soothing...familiar. He feels safer just being in its presence. And that voice...it's coming from the light. _

_This is the one: the one he should remember but can't. The pain is back, but it feels different._

" _I didn't save you from that place just so I could watch you die. You **will** get better. You have to."_

_And finally, Dean believes it._

_The redness, the heat, the pain disappear. This time, when the darkness pulls him down, he welcomes it. Because he knows he will come back from it._

_He has to._

* * *

Eventually, Dean's temperature starts to go down. Sam tries once more to get fluid into his brother. For the first time in days, Dean takes it willingly, almost gratefully. Small, slow sips, but sips nonetheless. More importantly, he keeps them down. Sam applies more cold compresses to his forehead and chest.

And then he waits.

It takes about twenty four hours for the fever to burn itself out.

* * *

Sam wakes up from a nap he hadn't meant to take, back stiff from falling asleep in his chair.

He feels Dean's forehead. The fever is gone. Dean's sweaty and sticky and he smells terrible, but he's alive.

Sam smiles when his brother opens his eyes.

"Hey, Dean. You thirsty?"

_...tbc..._


	7. Into the West

**Chapter Seven: Into the West**

Sam spends the next few days helping Dean heal from months of starvation and dehydration. The lack of real food and enough water in Purgatory did a huge number on Dean's body, and Sam can tell just by the lack of appetite he exhibits. He has no appetite for the things he usually eats. Burgers, pie, french fries, they do nothing for him. Dean seems to prefer simple foods, things Sam knows he would never admit to eating. He's particularly fond of peanut butter on toast for some reason, and he can't get enough of Jody's chicken noodle soup. He has a strong liking for rare steak _(very rare_ steak), and Sam slowly weans him off the rare stuff and onto meat that's been properly cooked. He also really seems to like nuts - pretty much any kind that Sam puts in front of him - and berries, too.

He doesn't eat much at first, and Sam figures it's a good thing, because too much too fast is sure to make him sick after not eating for so long.

But it's not long before Sam can see the changes in his brother physically. His face appears less gaunt after a few days, some of the color comes back into his cheeks, and after a few weeks Sam can't see his ribs anymore.

Sam dresses and redresses Dean's wounds. He continues to give him the antibiotics, which helps them heal. The color eventually fades away from the nasty one on his arm, and Sam knows Dean will be left with a pretty impressive scar.

Fixing his brother's emotional scars, on the other hand, presents a bit of a challenge.

Sam's not sure what to do with Dean. He leaves the TV on, and Dean just kind of stares at it for a long time, flipping idly through the channels and never really settling on anything for too long. Certain things freak him out. Lighting storms, hurricanes, pretty much any movie or TV show where the weather is bad freaks him out. He also seems more afraid of dogs than he ever used to be.

He gives Dean a few of his books to read, but he was never much of a reader to start with, and everything just sits on the table untouched.

In the end, it's Jody who has the breakthrough.

She comes home one day with a sketchpad and a nice wooden box of colored pencils. While Dean eyes the items curiously, Sam tells Jody he isn't sure this will work; Dean's never been much of an artist. But she mentions how she's seen art therapy work wonders on traumatized kids and adults, and she thinks maybe Dean can give it a shot. Sam turns to his brother to see how he'll take to it, only to find that Dean has already started drawing.

* * *

Dean draws for a good week. He stops every once in awhile to eat, or to sleep, or to take a bath. But mostly he spends his time drawing.

His drawings come to life vividly on the page. Sam never thought his brother could draw this well. He's never seen him draw anything more complicated than a stick figure.

It's through the drawings that Sam finally sees just what Dean went through during his time in Purgatory.

There's a picture of Cas, angel wings spread wide, face in agony, being torn apart by a bright light.

There's a picture of lightning setting a tree on fire, rain melting the leaves off the branches.

There's that giant creature that scared Dean so badly right before they left, and it looks just as terrifying on paper.

There are hellhounds, and vampires, and zombies. A rougaru. Sam begins to understand where Dean's fear of dogs came from.

One day, Sam wakes up and finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling away at a piece of paper. It's nothing but a red circle, drawn over and over. The red pencil is broken in half, pieces of it liter the table, and Dean's hand is bleeding, dripping more red onto the already saturated paper.

Sam yanks the pencil from his hand so quickly that Dean yelps and stands up from the table, shoving Sam away from him. He stands in the kitchen, panting heavily, face streaked with tears, and as he reaches up with his unbloodied hand to grab the amulet, Sam decides it's time to get his brother out of the house.

After he cleans and bandages his hand, Sam packs up Dean's sketchbook and his pencils, bundles him into the car, and takes him to the park.

* * *

Dean's wary at first, confused, but he's developed enough of a trust that he follows Sam without protest.

The park turns out to be just the thing that Dean needs.

It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, there's a nice breeze blowing through the trees, and the clouds in the sky create a myriad of fluffy shapes and pictures. Dean looks around him in awe, mouth open wide, and Sam can't help but laugh. When Dean turns to him and frowns, Sam smiles.

"Close your mouth, Dean. You're letting all the flies in."

It's a stupid joke, and Sam knows it.

But then Dean smiles back at him, and it's all worth it.

* * *

Sam starts taking Dean to the park everyday. He works it into their routine. Breakfast. Bath. TV. Lunch. Afternoon at the park. Home for dinner. Drawing. Bed.

The park is clearly Dean's favorite. He finds all kinds of things to draw there. Flowers, trees, fluffy clouds. It's like he's a five year old rediscovering the world. Sam's heart aches at the innocence of it. He enjoys watching Dean draw at the park, watching him just walk around and look at everything like he's never seen anything like it before.

It's not until Dean goes to bed at night that Sam sits on the living room couch and allows himself to cry. He cries at the unfairness of it all, at the thought that Dean isn't himself anymore. He misses his brother. The one who called him Geek Boy, made fun of him for doing research instead of going to the bar, told him to make sure he brought back some damn pie. The Dean that was obsessed with his car and with girls and with booze. Sure, Dean could be a jerk, and a pig, and just plain annoying. But that was his brother. That was _Dean_. This...this is still his brother, but he's _broken_ , and Sam just wants to fix him, and he doesn't know how.

* * *

One day, about a week after Sam first gets Dean out of the house, they find themselves in an unfamiliar part of the park. There's a small lake with a few benches spread around it, and on one of them sits an old woman with a dog.

She looks up at them and smiles, waving politely. School's not out for summer yet, and it's still pretty early in the afternoon, so Sam figures she's not used to seeing people in the park at this hour.

As she waves, her black lab barks playfully and starts to run toward them, pulling his leash out of the woman's hands.

"Baxter, come back here this minute!"

At the sight of the dog running toward them, Dean actually growls low in his throat. The dog skids to a halt at Dean's feet, sits down on the ground, and whines, tail tucked between his legs.

"Dean, it's okay. He's not going to hurt you," Sam assures him, taken aback at the fact that his brother just growled at a dog about a tenth of his size.

But Dean's face softens as the dog whimpers at his feet. Then he slowly bends down. Sam watches in awe as Dean reaches a shaky hand out to it. The dog stops whining and looks up at him with puppydog eyes that could rival even Sam's.

Slowly, Dean pats the dog on the head. Once. Twice. The dog barks, and his tail comes up and starts wagging. The dog licks Dean's hand, and Dean flinches away and pulls his hand back. But then the dog gets up on his hind legs, tail still wagging, and barks again, panting. Dean looks at him for a second, then reaches out again. This time, when the dog licks his hand, Dean actually smiles at him. Then he starts to pet him again.

"I'm sorry. I hope he didn't bother you."

Sam looks up to see the old woman has hobbled over to them on her cane.

"Not at all," Sam assures her, smiling as he looks down to find the dog on his back, legs scrabbling at the sky as Dean rubs his belly. "Not at all."

* * *

Dean spends the next hour playing with Baxter. He plays fetch with a stick he finds, throws a red rubber ball that the woman gives him, and runs around with him. Just yesterday, Dean had whined when a commercial for pet food came on the television. Now he's playing fetch with this woman's dog like it's nothing. Sam sits on the bench with the old woman and marvels.

"Your brother...he's not quite right, is he?"

It's a bold statement, very blunt, and Sam doesn't answer her right away.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. I just...he reminds me of someone, actually."

"Who?" Sam asks.

"When I was a girl, my little sister, she...she went through a trauma. Saw something she shouldn't have seen."

The woman pauses, lost in thought, and Sam doesn't pry for more details. When she continues, he listens closely.

"She wouldn't talk for months. Wouldn't tell any of us how she was feeling. My parents and I, we didn't know how to help her. There weren't really any drugs to help with that kind of thing back then, and psychiatry wasn't what it is now."

Sam nods in understanding, waiting for her to continue.

"My sister loved playing with dolls. Even though I was too old to play with dolls at that point, I thought maybe if I played with her, it would help bring back some happy memories, maybe help her see how much I loved her and wanted to help her. After awhile she started smiling again. Then a few weeks later out of the blue she started talking again. My parents were so happy."

Sam smiles as he realizes what the woman is trying to tell him.

"If you want to get through to your brother, just do the things you used to do together, whatever they are. Something that's familiar to him, something he enjoys. Maybe reminding him about the good times will help bring him back to you."

Twenty minutes later, Sam finally manages to drag Dean away from Baxter so he and Anita can go home.

As he drives them back to Jody's, Sam thinks about everything Anita told him, and he silently thanks whoever will listen for letting them stumble into her path that day.

* * *

Of course, the first thing Sam thinks of that makes his brother happy is women, and that's just not an option. The second, third, and fourth things are hunting, beer, and food. Hunting is most definitely not a good idea. Beer is out for obvious reasons, and since Dean doesn't seem to enjoy eating food anymore anyway that's also out. Sam's not sure what else to try.

Then it hits him. Those are all things Dean liked to do, but aside from hunting and beer, none of them are things he liked to do with Sam. What the two of them really have in common is movies. When they were little, Dean made Sam watch every movie that he ever thought was cool. Most of them involved guns and explosions, John McClane types and Clint Eastwood types and Steve McQueen types. Sam has a list a mile long in his head of all the movies they ever watched together. Movies they watched because "you're not a man until you've seen this movie, Sammy," or "because Steve McQueen is _the man_ , Sammy," or just because "dude, I'm the oldest and I know what's best for you."

Sam writes down all the movies he can think of that they ever watched together, as kids or as adults. When he's done, the list takes up about five sheets of paper.

That night, he downloads "The Great Escape" and streams it on Jody's TV.

Dean smiles and laughs his way through the whole thing, eyes lit up like a five year old's on Christmas morning.

Sam's pretty sure Dean's laugh is the best sound he's heard in years.

* * *

The next day, Dean sits quietly in the park and draws a picture of the two of them sitting on the couch watch Steven McQueen dig an escape tunnel.

It's definitely Sam's favorite picture so far.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Sam and Dean breeze through The List. They still go to the park during the day. Sometimes they see Anita and Baxter, and Dean plays fetch with the dog while Sam talks to Anita, or sits by quietly and reads.

* * *

One day, Sam buys a football and they go outside and throw it around for an hour. Neither of them says a word, but it's still one of the best days Sam's had in a while.

* * *

Dean still draws pictures. He usually draws the two of them watching their latest movie. Sam really likes the one of him posing as John McClane on their Die Hard movie marathon night.

On the bad days, Dean draws pictures of Purgatory. One particularly gruesome one shows Dean having his skin peeled off and eaten by some creature Sam can't identify. Sam's not sure if this one actually happened, and truthfully he doesn't want to know. When Dean's done, he just stares at it until Sam gathers up the sketchbook and pencils. He hides them away, grabs the football, and takes his brother to the park.

* * *

One night, while they're sitting at the table eating dinner, Sam sloshes chocolate milk all down his shirt, and Dean laughs until he can't breathe, bent over the table gasping for air. Sam wipes the milk off his shirt as he joins his brother in laughing.

* * *

One day, Dean draws a picture full of Sams. There are so many of him, and they tower over Dean, holding weapons. He's written words next to their heads, things they are yelling at him, things like "pathetic" and "you're worthless" and " I'll never save you." He's just finished writing "I hate you" next to one of them when Sam finds him. His hands are shaking, and tears are falling silently down his face and soaking the paper.

Sam takes the pencil from Dean and puts it down. He wraps his brother's hand around the amulet and holds it tight.

"I love you, Dean. Whatever they told you, it's not true. I saved you. You're okay now. We're going to get through this. I promise."

He says it all slowly, meaning every word of it, almost grateful for the fact that Dean's too far gone to shy away from the chick flickyness of it all.

In the end, Dean starts to sob, and Sam pulls his brother close and tells him over and over again that's it's all going to be okay.

After that, the bad days become fewer and farther between.

* * *

One night, Sam gets Dean to watch "The Labyrinth." Sam was sick the first (and only) time they watched it, and it's still the only movie he was ever able to make his brother watch against his will.

Dean wouldn't admit it the first time, and he won't admit it now, but despite protestations of "David Bowie is so gay," Sam knows his brother loved it.

* * *

In the beginning, Dean would have nightmares every night. At first he would wake up from them screaming in terror, and Sam would get down on the floor quietly, grab Dean's hand, and wrap it around the amulet. Just like he did that first night, he would breath deeply and evenly, willing Dean to calm his own breathing down with Sam's. When he was calm again, he would nod and fall back to sleep, hand still wrapped around his amulet.

Eventually, the nightmares begin to fade. He still has them almost every night, but they don't usually last long, and he rarely wakes in the middle of the night screaming anymore.

And then suddenly Sam doesn't need to wake Dean from the nightmares at all. When the dreams get so intense that Dean jerks awake, he grabs the amulet and holds on tight, slowly calms his breathing down like Sam taught him, and then falls asleep again.

On those nights, Sam rolls back over and smiles to himself.

* * *

One day, a particularly bad storm rolls through the area. The wind howls through the trees outside, thunder rumbles so hard the floor shakes, and lightning flashes so close Sam swears he can feel his hair stand on end.

Dean spends that day hiding in the bedroom closet. Sam climbs in with him. It's a tight fit, but Dean doesn't seem to mind. They use the sheets and blankets to build a makeshift fort, and Sam tells his brother some of the stories Dean used to tell him when they were little.

* * *

One day, Sam takes his brother out to see "The Avengers." He knows how excited Dean was about this movie. He just hopes that Dean will be able to handle the crowds and the loud theater.

It turns out he needn't have worried. Dean doesn't freak out once at the lights or the crowd or the movie itself. His eyes light up like he's a ten year old boy, excited about his first superhero movie. When the Hulk throws Loki around the room like a rag doll, Dean laughs along with the audience so hard that he cries.

* * *

That night after dinner, Sam is sitting on the couch reading when Dean walks up to him and holds out a piece of paper. Sam takes it from him gently.

Dean drew a picture of Sam saving him from Purgatory.

Dean drew himself all in black, small, crouching in terror. Sam towers over him, big and bright, surrounded by yellow light, and he's got angel wings and a superhero cape on, like Dean isn't sure whether Sam's his guardian angel or his Superman.

Sam feels his heart clench in his chest, and he lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob.

"Thank you," he finally manages to get out.

Dean shakes his head, then points from himself to Sam.

"I don't understand."

Dean walks back to his sketchpad and writes out two words, then brings the pad to Sam.

In neat letters, Dean has written the words, _Thank you_.

Sam blinks the tears from his eyes and says, "You're welcome."

Dean nods and smiles, then takes the picture from Sam and tapes it to the fridge with the rest of the nice ones they've decided to keep.

Sam joins his brother and makes a few small adjustments until the new picture sits in the very middle of all the rest. Right where it belongs.

* * *

That night, Sam offers Dean a piece of pie – cherry pie, his favorite – and Dean grins as he eats the whole thing.

* * *

Dean sleeps straight through that night without waking once from a nightmare. When Sam wakes the next morning, he's still grasping the amulet tightly in his sleep, and there's a smile on his face.

_...to be concluded..._


	8. Look at Last on Meadows Green

**Epilogue: Look at Last on Meadows Green**

Sam's sitting on the couch that morning when his brother finally comes downstairs. Dean slept for a long, peaceful time last night. Sam's pretty sure he didn't wake up from a nightmare once.

Dean walks into the living room and pauses, and Sam looks up at him.

Sam knows right away that something is different. He looks at Dean, and Dean looks back at him – _really_ looks at him – his green eyes bright and clear.

And suddenly, Sam can see his brother for the first time since he lost him to Purgatory so long ago. Suddenly, it's almost as if...

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice is rough with disuse, but Sam would know it anywhere. It's his voice – _Dean_ – and Sam's never been happier to hear his brother call him "Sammy."

He feels his heart leap in his chest. He's so shocked he can't speak at first. Then finally, he finds his voice.

"Yeah, Dean. It's me."

Dean takes a step toward him, and then another. Sam stands up shakily from the couch, waiting. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Dean wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, and Sam gasps. He laughs to cover up the sob that escapes his throat.

"Sammy."

Sam doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing his brother say his name.

* * *

After not hearing it for so long, the sound of his brother's voice is a shock to Sam's system. Dean's voice is hoarse, and he sounds tired at first, almost shy, but as he tells Sam what happened in Purgatory, he begins to open up. He doesn't share everything: just enough that his drawings begin to make sense. But while Dean remembers what happened to him in Purgatory, the past few weeks are a blur. He can't remember specific events; all he remembers are flashes of emotion. He remembers feeling scared, and confused, and lost. And then he remembers the fever, and how Sam was able to bring him back.

He remembers that Sam took care of him, and that the feelings of fear and confusion began to be replaced by a sense of comfort, safety, and home.

When Jody comes back from work that day to see that Dean is talking again, she finds herself at a loss for words. Then Dean gives her a hug and thanks her for everything she's done for them, and she smiles and thanks God for helping Sam get his brother back.

* * *

It's like a switch has been flipped in Dean's brain; like some long lost connection has been made again. Remembering Sam is just what his brother needs to come back to himself.

They stay at Jody's place for another two weeks. Dean tells her he has no problem with them moving back to Rufus' cabin, but Jody stubbornly insists they stay, and neither of them really wants to argue with her. Dean sleeps on a cot that she brings up from the basement. He's not comfortable on the floor anymore, but after months of sleeping on a hard ground Dean still has trouble falling asleep in a bed.

Over the next few days the brothers look into Cas' disappearance. They try summoning spells, hire psychics, even try talking to other angels.

No one knows why Cas was ripped out of Purgatory, where he went...or if he's even still alive.

Then one night, Dean dreams about Cas. Sam wakes to the sound of Dean yelling for the angel, telling him to wait. Sam's just about to get out of bed and wake his brother when Dean jerks up on his cot, panting.

"Cas..."

"Dean, are you all right?" Sam asks with concern.

Dean takes a minute to catch his breath. Finally, he looks over at Sam.

"It's...Cas. He's alive. He just...he was in my dream. Only it wasn't a dream. Not really. Does that make any sense?"

Sam nods in understanding, knowing exactly what his brother is talking about. Dean doesn't really wait for a response though, and he continues.

"He's in Heaven, Sam. He's safe. He said something – some _one_ – tore his grace out of Purgatory. One minute he was in agony and the next...he was home."

"How...how is he doing?" Sam asks awkwardly.

"You mean is he still cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?"

Sam cringes at Dean's blas _é_ way of stating things (which, he hates to admit, he actually missed quite a bit).

"Yeah."

"No. He's good. _Really_ good, actually," Dean says, shaking his head slightly as he leans back against the wall. "He's...happy. He said he's not sure if he'll come back to Earth. He thinks he will, but not right away."

"That's good to know," Sam says with a sigh. "Who do you think...who do you think pulled him out?"

Dean pauses, lost in thought for a second. He pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. It looks like an unconscious gesture, protective, like he's trying to defend himself against the painful memories of Purgatory.

"Cas was...he was in a lot of pain when he got yanked out. But...I remember...whatever took him was _powerful_ , Sammy. I've never seen anything like it. I don't...I don't know."

Sam nods. As they sit in silence, the pieces click into place in his head, and Sam finally develops his own theory about who sent him that dream about the ritual to save Dean; about who's responsible for Cas' disappearance.

He doesn't share it with Dean, though. His brother's always been a bit of a skeptic.

Dean lies back down on his cot, pulling the covers over himself, and Sam does the same. He's just getting comfortable again when Dean calls out to him.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Our lives are weird, man."

Sam smiles. "Understatement, Dean. Understatement."

* * *

Dean falls back into hunting easily, with one exception: he flat out refuses to take on cases dealing with shifters. He never tells Sam why, but Sam doesn't need him to. Instead he calls up other hunters to deal with those cases for them.

Sometimes, when the weather gets really bad, Sam notices that Dean will get very quiet and tense up. Loud thunder makes him jump, and even though he'll take showers again, sometimes when it rains too hard Dean will insist they stay inside for a bit and wait for it to calm down. Sam does his part to help his brother by not mentioning his odd behavior. He knows Dean will feel more comfortable handling this on his own.

It's weeks before Dean will look at a girl again, but one day a particularly nice one makes Dean turn his head around for a second look. When Sam bursts out laughing and Dean asks him what's so funny, Sam can't bring himself to say anything, so he just shakes his head and laughs harder. Dean calls him a freak and turns back around to stare some more.

Dean gets back his appetite for burgers and fries and pie pretty quickly. The first time he orders a burger at Biggerson's, Dean moans in ecstasy.

"God, Sam. Remember when we had to eat fruits and vegetables because the Leviathans poisoned the food supply? What a nightmare."

Sam shakes his head in wonder as Dean starts in on his fries.

"Yeah, Dean. Fruits and vegetables. Just terrible."

* * *

Over those weeks of recovery, Sam became so attuned to the change in his brother's sleep patterns that he can almost sense when Dean's having a bad dream. So it's no surprise to him that he still wakes up to the sound of Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, caught in a nightmare. When it happens, Dean will wake up panting, at which point he'll turn to Sam, find him staring, and tell him to go back to sleep.

One night, Sam wakes to the sound of Dean screaming his name in terror, and he flies across the room and shakes his brother awake. Dean jerks up in bed, looking around wildly, and when his eyes settle on Sam he calms down.

"Sam...I..."

Sam knows what Dean wants to say, how _much_ he wants to say. But he doesn't need him to, because he already knows. Sam squeezes his brother's shoulder firmly. "It's okay, Dean. I understand."

Dean nods his head slowly and rolls over, clutching the amulet tightly in his fist.

He hasn't taken it off yet, and Sam suspects he never will again.

As Sam gets up and turns away, he hears a quiet whisper of, "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam crawls back under the covers with a smile on his face.

"You're welcome."

**THE END**

_Roads go ever ever on,_   
_Over rock and under tree,_   
_By caves where never sun has shone,_   
_By streams that never find the sea;_   
_Over snow by winter sown,_   
_And through the merry flowers of June,_   
_Over grass and over stone,_   
_And under mountains in the moon._

_Roads go ever ever on,_   
_Under cloud and under star._   
_Yet feet that wandering have gone_   
_Turn at last to home afar._   
_Eyes that fire and sword have seen,_   
_And horror in the halls of stone_   
_Look at last on meadows green,_   
_And trees and hills they long have known._

_~ JRR Tolkien, "Roads Go Ever On" from "The Hobbit"_


End file.
